


Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free

by magicgenetek



Series: Like Comets Around the Sun [2]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 04, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgenetek/pseuds/magicgenetek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shadow War is over, Cartagia is dead, and peace has descended on the universe. Now G'Kar gets to pick up the pieces, Londo wants to rebuild burnt bridges, and Vir tries to stay out of the way as G'Kar and Londo inevitably fall into each other's orbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between 4x6, Into the Fire, and 4x7, Epiphanies.
> 
> A lot of thanks to Avelera for helping me edit and tame this fic!

The ship from Narn to Babylon 5 was stuffed to the brim. Refugees, couriers, and merchants were all crammed shoulder to shoulder.

The noise and the smell were just like the old shelters G’Kar had grown up in. He was used to making himself smaller so that other people had more room, and the prayers that had contented him as a child, as an adult, as a prisoner of Cartagia had not worn out their welcome yet. The meager servings of food were still better than what he’d scavenged in his youth and what the Centauri had given him, and he gave what portions he didn’t need to those who did.

His eye no longer saw the emptiness in hearts. It had faded after he had walked in on Narns celebrating in the broken palace and saw light scattered through them, some glowing and some dark and hollow as the Centauri. Now it just itched terribly, and he had to be careful when he scratched at his eye not to irritate the scabs on his back by stretching out or he’d end up wincing into the woman next to him.

His injuries were just annoying. The real torture at this point was all the people who kept on chasing after him with questions.

“Why did you refuse to lead our people?”

“What happened when you faced Cartagia in the execution chamber?”

“What happened to your eye?”

By the third day, G’Kar hid with the nursing parents. On the fifth day, he was in the engine room. At the end of the week, G’Kar had taken to the cargo bay, and he waited until everyone else had spilled into customs to follow behind.

Most of the Narns had gravitated to the Narn officers at customs, so G’Kar chose one of the humans. He didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to go through customs quickly, pick up some fresh spoo in the Zocalo, and then fall asleep in his own bed. It would be easy.

Or, at least, it should have been.

“Where is your identicard?”

“It should be here somewhere.” G’Kar reached for his wallet instinctively before remembering that he didn’t have it. It had been taken off of him by the Centauri. “Damn.”

“What?”

“It was stolen.” G’Kar put his hands together. “There’s people on Babylon 5 who can ID me. I’ll wait in the containment booth until they can show up.”

“Stay out here. You’re injured, aren’t you?” The guard pointed to a spot on the ground. “I’ll have someone from medbay come and see you.”

G’Kar scowled down at him. “I don’t need to sit down. Let me send a message to G’Dan in security and this will be cleared up in five minutes. I don’t need to see a doctor today.”

“Most of the Narns on-station are over there, greeting family, or out partying. If you’re not over there, you must not have family here.”

G’Kar’s teeth ground. “Just send a message to G’Dan. It’s not that hard.”

“Are you giving me orders?” the guard growled.

“I just want to eat and go back to my quarters!” G’Kar snapped. He stepped forward and the guard stepped back, hand going to their waist. G’Kar grabbed the guard’s hand before he could go for a weapon. “It’s not that difficult!”

A third set of hands separated G’Kar and the guard; G’Kar braced his feet instinctively as the newcomer spoke: “Hey, what’s going on here?”

G’Kar blinked. “Mr. Allan?”

“Who else would end up in charge while there was a big party going on?” Zack said. He was out of uniform, wearing a bright green turtleneck and a very in-uniform expression. “Dorchet, stand down. G’Kar’s got a temper but he’s also the guy who helped arrange the Narn half of the security detail. I don’t think you’ve met him yet.” He turned to G’Kar. “He’s new.”

“Oh! My apologies,” said G’Kar, and bowed his head. “I’m sorry for grabbing you. I’ve been on edge for the past few days. It’s been a long journey.”

“Um,” the guard said, “It’s alright, I guess.” He looked to Zack for confirmation.

“It’s fine. I don’t think there’s anyone else coming in for another ten minutes, so how about you go take a break?” Zack said.

The guard nodded and fled. Zack shrugged and looked up at G’Kar. “Where have you been? And where’s your identicard?”

“I had a run in with some Centauri. It went about as well as it sounds like it did,” G’Kar said. “I only managed to get out of it recently.”

“I’m glad you’re back. It’s thanks to you that we’ve got Garibaldi back,” Zack said, and he clapped G’Kar on the back. G’Kar stiffened as his whip wounds sent a shock up his back but didn’t make a sound. “I owe you a drink for finding him! The entire station is celebrating, so I can get you whatever you want!”

“I’m afraid I must pass,” G’Kar said. “I’m tired enough that I was planning on getting take-out and falling into bed.”

“Then let me spring for take out,” Zack said. “The Centauri stole all your stuff, right? You can’t pay, so I’ll pay. I’m off duty, so we can take as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

G’Kar smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Allan.”

They made small talk about the station as they took a lift to the Zocalo: new recruits, the latest relationship drama, Mr. Garibaldi’s recovery. As they headed into the Zocalo, a partying human in a spangled dress handed G’Kar a party hat. G’Kar put it on at what he figured was a rakish angle and turned to Zack.

“I’m amazed the celebrations are still going on, what with the Shadows,” G’Kar said. Zack gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

“We’re celebrating the defeat of the Shadows, G’Kar! They all fled the galaxy three days ago! Sheridan and Delenn chased them out!”

G’Kar stopped in his tracks and stared at Zack. “They’re gone?” Zack nodded. “All of them?”

“Both Shadows and Vorlons! They’re all gone and they won’t hurt anyone again,” Zack said.

“This is great news,” G’Kar said. “This is wonderful! The great enemy is gone at last!” He grabbed Zack’s hands and kissed his cheeks joyfully. “We did it!”

“We did!” Zack said. He smiled back sheepishly. “How’d you know about the Vorlons? That wasn’t common knowledge when you left.”

“I heard they were going to blow up Centauri Prime. As much as the Centauri are too obnoxious to live, killing them all is too much,” G’Kar said.

Now Zack stopped. “Did you get replaced with a pod person, G’Kar?” He waved his hand in front of G'Kar’s face, and G’Kar leaned back. “I thought you hated the Centauri.”

“I did,” G’Kar said. He looked away from Zack and into the crowd. Narns, humans, Centauri, pak’ma’ra, Drazi, Brakiri, and many others were all celebrating together. Even now, though, the Centauri avoided the Narns as if the mere sight of them would burn them. “Now I pity them. How can I be angry at empty husks?”

“I don’t get it,” said Zack.

“You don’t have to,” said G’Kar.

“Nope,” said Zack. “Most of the other Narns seem to have forgotten about it to celebrate Narn being freed. I haven’t heard a lot about it because they’ve been so busy partying.”

“And I imagine the Centauri aren’t keen to have them remember.” G’Kar turned back to Zack. “I may take you up on that offer of a drink after all. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight, and I may not get this chance again.”

“Sounds good.” Zack grinned. “Where do you want to go? All the Narn places are going wild.”

G’Kar shook his head quickly. “I don’t feel like Narn tonight.” Too many Narns who had undoubtedly heard about what happened with Cartagia. He didn’t need more questions when all he wanted was a quiet night. “Take me to one of your Earther restaurants. Surprise me.”

“I know just the place,” Zack said. “Remember when the security team went out for dim sum? The owner’s been doing some really cool things with spoo lately and I know you’re into that.”

G’Kar patted his empty stomach. “You had me at ‘remember’. Let’s eat!”

They weaved through the crowds. G’Kar plucked a free martini off a nearby tray and sipped; some of it slopped out of the glass and onto his hand when people bumped into him, but he didn’t care at this point. He was back on Babylon 5, no one was asking him about his eye and he was going to eat.

“G’Kar!”

He turned before he could think and saw Ta’Lon waving at him through the crowd. Ta’Lon was his friend but G’Kar didn’t think he’d be on station here and now, and he probably had so many questions -  G’Kar ducked behind Zack and walked fast.

“G’Kar, get back here this instant!” G’Kar heard Ta’Lon start to run and quickly looked for a place to hide. Somewhere, anywhere -

And Ta’Lon ran into him. “There you are!”

“Ta’Lon, now is really not the time,” G’Kar said with his best ambassador voice. “I’m going to dinner.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming back from Narn?”

Zack said, “What?”

G’Kar shrugged at Zack, a silent apology, before replying. “There was no interstellar communications back up when I left! I took the first shuttle to Babylon 5 that I could so I could continue doing my duties here. I was going to call you when Mr. Allan found me and offered dinner because I just got off the ship and I’m starving. Whatever it is, can it wait until after I’ve eaten and had a good night’s rest?”

“No, it can’t,” said Ta’Lon, arms crossed.

“What is it?” G’Kar asked. “Did something explode while I was away? Did some illegitimate child I don’t know about show up? I’m hungry!”

“What happened to your eye?” Ta’Lon demanded.

G’Kar stiffened. “My eye is fine.”

“What are you two talking about?” G’Kar heard Zack ask, but he ignored him.

“There’s not a lot of information from Narn yet, but what I have heard says that you came to Narn as a prisoner of the Centauri Emperor and that he took your eye!” Ta’Lon’s voice took on a pleading note. “Show me that I have nothing to worry about and I’ll let you go back to your dinner, but I have to know.”

“Show you,” G’Kar repeated.

“Show me,” Ta’Lon said back.

“What do you mean, captured by the Centauri Emperor? I thought you were looking for Garibaldi!” asked Zack.

G’Kar rubbed his forehead over his missing eye. “I told you I had a bad run in with the Centauri. They caught me after I found where Mr. Garibaldi was, and things escalated.”

“Escalated how?” asked Zack.

G’Kar sighed. “You two won’t let me go, will you?”

“No,” Ta’Lon.

G’Kar pulled the strip of leather off his eye and onto his forehead. The cool rush of air into his empty socket tingled, but that was nothing compared to the sinking feeling he got as Ta’Lon gasped and Zack’s jaw dropped.

“It’s not that bad,” G’Kar said.

“Your eye is gone!” said Zack.

G’Kar shrugged. “It’s been gone for a week and a half and I haven’t had any major problems with it.”

“A week and - “ Ta’Lon sputtered, then grabbed G’Kar’s arm. “You’re coming to medbay.”

“I got it treated! I’m sure the Centauri looked at it so I wouldn’t die,” G’Kar protested as Ta’Lon tugged on his arm.

“You’re sure,” said Ta’Lon, incredulous.

“I was rather heavily drugged at the time,” G’Kar admitted.

“I hate to be a spoilsport,” Zack said, “but he’s right. You need to see a doctor. I’m no medical expert, but I’m pretty sure that losing your eye is a bad enough injury that you need something for it. What the hell happened?” 

“The emperor didn’t like how I was looking at him, and no one had the good sense to tell him that plucking an eye out wouldn’t stop me.” G’Kar pulled the leather back down over his eye socket with his martini-laden hand. “Can I at least eat first? I haven’t been home for five minutes!”

There was a sudden silence.

G’Kar said, “We’re right in front of the breen on a stick stand, aren’t we.”

“Yes,” said Ta’Lon.

“Half the Narns on the station just heard that I’m home, didn’t they.”

“Yes.”

G’Kar handed his martini to Zack. “I’d like to take you up on dinner at a later time because I’m afraid I have to run now.”

Zack looked at Ta’Lon, then back at G’Kar. “Why?"

“Because everyone thinks I killed the emperor with spiritual powers and I’m about to be mobbed by admirers.” With that, G’Kar turned on the ball of his foot and ran with Ta’Lon close behind and a mob of Narns of all eligible genders in hot pursuit.


	2. The Impatient Patient

“Can we please make this fast, doctor?” G’Kar said; he had finally gotten balanced on the examination chair so that he wasn’t putting too much pressure on his back. “I’m tired.”

“The sooner you tell me what happened, the faster we can do this,” Dr. Franklin said. “I need to know what happened so I can treat it.”

“Can’t I do this tomorrow?”

“No!” Franklin glared down at him like G’Sten used to when he found out G’Kar had been helping a girlfriend smuggle arms when he was supposed to be studying. “You said you hadn’t gotten treatment in a week and a half, and I’m pretty sure there’s older injuries than that. I’ll do the bare minimum to make sure nothing’s going to kill you, send you to bed, and then we can get things properly done tomorrow. Are we clear?”

“Fine,” G’Kar said. He tugged the leather up over his eye. “This is it. Look at it so I can go home.”

“Really? That’s it?” Franklin raised his eyebrow.

“That’s it. Nothing more. If I remember anything else, I’ll tell you tomorrow,” G’Kar said. “I have a martini and small buns full of meat waiting for me, so hurry it up.”

“I really hope you don’t mean sex,” Franklin said.

“I’m entirely too tired and filthy for sex, though I’m flattered you think I could get a date like this,” G’Kar said. “I mean my dinner. Please get on with it.”

“I believe that your eye is the only injury you have about as far as I could throw you.”

“You couldn’t throw me,” G’Kar said.

“Exactly. So spill.”

G’Kar looked around helplessly. He definitely couldn’t make a run for it; the door was too far away and there were too many other doctors between him and it. There were so many of them. And doctors were supposed to keep information secret, but that didn’t stop politics. There were too many of them. There were -

He closed his eye and took a few deep breaths. He was on Babylon 5. Dr. Franklin wouldn’t tell anyone what happened to G’Kar once he found out. He didn’t need to panic. He was tired and it was getting to him and he was in control, dammit.

He was safe here.

“Is there a more private place we can go to?” G’Kar asked.

Dr. Franklin nodded. “We can use one of the examination rooms.”

“Those record everything that happens in them, correct?”

“They do.”

“I don’t want anyone watching the recording live,” G’Kar said. Dr. Franklin opened his mouth and G’Kar continued before he could object. “It won’t take long and I know you usually have them there but don’t do it this time. They can watch the recording later. I’m tired and hungry and it will make me feel better.”

“Of course,” Dr. Franklin said. “Go to that room,” he said, and pointed. “I’ll make sure no one is watching. It’ll be just you and me.”

“Thank you, doctor,” G’Kar said, and he stood up and winced as his back stretched uncomfortably. Dr. Franklin offered him a hand, but G’Kar waved it off and trundled into the room, shutting the door fast behind him.

There was a long table with a soft top and paper on it and chairs and a counter. G’Kar took one of the chairs and turned it around, then sat on it so he could lean forward on the back.

He’d have to take his clothes off for Franklin to treat everything. G’Kar knew that thought shouldn’t frighten him, but it did. Some part of him was screaming for him to flee now, go to his room and lock the door behind him and put on layer after layer of leather and metal until they were comfortably heavy on him. The clothes he’d gotten back on Narn weren’t heavy enough to stop the feeling of exposure from creeping up his neck like cold fingers. He wasn’t even a Narn anymore, so this loss of dignity shouldn’t bother him. His head knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, but his body still wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

G’Kar bit his sleeve in frustration. He’d spent the last whoever knows how many days being shoved around, mocked, tortured, badgered to become a figurehead, and otherwise only barely able to scrape some measure of control of the situation. Now, adding insult to injury, he couldn’t even get his own emotions to obey him.

The door creaked open. G’Kar stopped savaging his sleeve and smiled sheepishly at Dr. Franklin. “I got sauce on my sleeve.”

“Uh huh.” Dr. Franklin didn’t believe that either. G’Kar could tell. G’Kar folded his arms over the back of the chair and looked at his fingers. He wanted to have his gloves back. His hands were cold.

“I could tell you what happened,” G’Kar said slowly, “but it would be easier to show you. I’d have to do that anyway.” He forced his hand to his chest and started to unstrap his first and only layer of armor. “No one’s watching, are they?”

“It’s just you and me,” Dr. Franklin reassured G’Kar. “This will be private, and I’m bound by confidentiality as your doctor. No one else is here.”

“Good,” said G’Kar. He dropped his armor on the floor, hesitated, then started undoing the clasps of his shirt.“Have you had a lot of experience working with torture victims?”

“Some, but it’s not my specialty. Why?”

“I was captured by the Centauri. Why do you think?” G’Kar finished with the clasps, pulled the shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor.

Dr. Franklin sucked in breath. “What the hell were you thinking, trying to avoid coming in today?”

G’Kar looked at the bruises and scabs around his wrists and flipped his arm idly so that he didn’t have to look at Dr. Franklin. “At the Centauri court, they brought me out as if I were some kind of performing animal and mocked me. When I was taken to Narn, they paraded me before everyone. After the Centauri left Narn, I was a celebrity for my role in freeing it and I was set upon with admirers and those who wanted to use my sudden fame.” He curled his fingers into a fist and saw the finger-shaped bruises on his palm were still there. “I wanted a quiet night at home before I was prodded and stared at again.”

“G’Kar,” Dr. Franklin said softly. G’Kar still could not bear to look at him. “It’s completely natural to feel like that after what happened.”

Some cold, dark thing loosened in G’Kar’s chest. “It’s not.” He tried to keep his voice even. “I haven’t felt like this since I was a child. I’m a member of the Kha’Ri and the ambassador to Babylon 5, and I’ve survived more fights than I can count. I should be able to be over this by now.”

“I know. You’re a very brave man,” Dr. Franklin said. “But you were tortured and a lot of bad things happened to you and you can’t always get over that all at once. It takes time. It happens to people.”

G’Kar stared at his bruised wrists. “Do you think so? I’m lucky to be alive. Shouldn’t I feel happy? Shouldn’t I be relieved to be home and not jump at every errant noise?”

“You just came out of an incredibly hostile and dangerous situation, and now you’ve been plunged back into peace. Your body still thinks you’re in danger. It’ll take time for you to adjust.” Franklin put his hand next to G’Kar’s; the skin around Franklin’s nails was ragged. “Sometimes it takes years for people to stop being reminded of the situation, or they have flashbacks.”

That made G’Kar look up. “Do you think that will happen to me?”

“We won’t know until time passes,” Franklin said gently.

G’Kar stared at Franklin. There was none of the accusation in his eyes that G’Kar had seen on Narn - oh, G’Kar, you’ll be thinking straight once you rest, you’re not well enough to make decisions, whatever the Centauri did was bad enough that you’ve lost your spine. If you hadn’t let them hurt you -

“It’s a natural part of healing?” G’Kar asked.

“It is,” said Franklin. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

G’Kar felt some of the heaviness that had been pressing down on his shoulders since he had been captured waft away. “That’s good. I haven’t known what to do with these feelings. I haven’t been able to tell anyone about it.”

“You can tell me,” Franklin said. “I won’t tell anyone else unless you ask me to. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Thank you,” G’Kar said. He gestured over at one of the chairs. “You may want to sit down.”

“Why?” asked Franklin.

“Because I’m going to tell you what happened to me. It’s quite the list,” G’Kar said. “Or are you going to work on treating me while I talk?”

“I’ll look over your injuries and I’m going to make sure you’re not going home with massive infections. I expect you back in here first thing tomorrow for a follow up,” Franklin said. “Your wrists?”

“My back first, please. I was almost whipped to death, and although I’m pretty sure it’s healing well on it’s own, I’d like to make sure of that,” G’Kar said.

“ _What?!_ ”

G’Kar smiled at the flush of anger and protectiveness on Franklin’s face. “The Centauri are very thorough about torture.”

Franklin stalked behind G’Kar; G’Kar heard a gasp. “What the hell?”

“How bad is it? I got some treatment on Narn before I came back, but they didn’t have much in medical supplies.”

“It’s,” Franklin said, then revised his statement. “It’s actually healing pretty well, but you’re going to have massive scarring.”

“I thought as much.” G’Kar sighed. “They’ve been consistently annoying since I got them.”

“When we’re done dealing with the fallout from the Shadows and Vorlons, you could come back in for skin grafts. You have some burn scars and they’ll make it harder for you to move your back.”

“That would be nice. I’m getting tired of trying to sleep and then waking up because I turned onto my back.”

Franklin checked G’Kar’s wrists next, then the bruising on his chest, then the empty eye socket. “Is there anything else?” Franklin asked.

G’Kar nodded, gathering his nerve. He needed to get this looked at, he had to, but it was still - he really didn’t want to talk about this. “One more thing.”

“What is it?”

“They,” G’Kar said, and steeled himself, “they also did things in my pouch. I don’t know how bad it is.”

No response. G’Kar looked up and saw Franklin horrified, speechless. That helped, but -

“Please, don’t - say something. Just do it. I want to go home.”

Franklin nodded. “I need you to turn around.”

G’Kar turned around on the chair so that his chest and pouch were bared. Franklin followed him, circled around and knelt before G’Kar. “Are you ready?”

G’Kar gripped the arms of the chair and nodded.

Franklin was much gentler than the Centauri doctors. He checked in with G’Kar to make sure he was comfortable as he worked, and G’Kar nodded and pressed down hard on the chair arms. Franklin was careful and kind but it was still strange to feel someone else’s hands on his pouch, inside it, and G’Kar tried to occupy himself with prayers.

Finally, Franklin withdrew. “Everything is healing well. There won’t be any permanent damage or scarring.”

G’Kar exhaled. “Good.”

“Is that everything?”

G’Kar nodded.

Franklin stood. “Then you can go. I want to see you first thing in the morning for a follow up, though, so don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Doctor,” G’Kar said. G’Kar put his shirts and armor back on, layer by layer, while Franklin cleaned up; then he followed Dr. Franklin out of the room, through the many bloodied patients, to the waiting room that lead outside.

“I never thought I’d miss being here,” G’Kar said. “I never liked hospitals.”

“Bad experiences?”

“Overwhelmingly so.” G’kar smiled. “Though not as bad here.”

“Welcome back home, G’Kar,” Franklin said.

G’Kar blinked. “Home?”

Dr. Franklin shrugged. “You’ve been saying you wanted to go home for the last few minutes, so I thought you meant here.”

G’Kar thought about that. He _had_ been saying that - I haven’t been home for five minutes, I want a quiet night at home, _home_ \- and when he was back on Centauri Prime, he hadn’t thought about what he’d do once he was back on Narn. He had imagined what would happen when he returned to Babylon 5.

“I did,” G’Kar said, and his voice wavered. “I’m home now.” He turned and pulled Franklin into a hug.

Franklin returned the hug warmly. “It’s good to have you back. We’ve all missed you.”

“I missed you too.” G’Kar’s voice was muffled by Franklin’s shoulder.

Franklin pulled away and patted G’Kar’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, ok? Don’t go back to work for at least a week. You need to decompress after everything that happened. Doctor’s orders.”

“Really?” G’Kar chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

Franklin waved his finger. “They’ve been running fine without you, and you need to rest.”

“If you insist.”

“I’m going to insist too,” said Zack. G’Kar looked over at him, surprised; he hadn’t seen him in the waiting room. “You look like you need a vacation.”

“Mr. Allan, I’m fine,” G’Kar protested half-heartedly, but he couldn’t help but smile. They were worried enough about him to give him time off, something he never could have done before with his responsibilities. But now Narn was freed and he could rest, couldn’t he? And it wouldn’t be weak of him to rest. He had other people to support him. “But since you two insist, I’ll take the time off.”

“You better, or you’re not getting dinner,” Zack said, and he waved a paper sack at G’Kar. “I got you spoo buns and breen on a stick.”

“Thank you,” G’Kar said, and he hugged Zack.

Zack hugged back with the arm that wasn’t holding the food and patted G’Kar’s shoulder awkwardly. “It’s nothing.”

“It means a lot to me,” G’Kar said. “Come back to my quarters with me. I want to hear about what else I’ve missed since I’ve been gone.”

“If you say so,” said Zack, grinning back. “Let’s get out of here.”


	3. Caught in the Eye of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 4x7, Epiphanies.

Vir and Londo drained most of the alcohol on the _Coruscan_ on the trip home. Once Londo had made sure that no one was coming to kill them from home, he descended back into happy drunkenness and trying to keep the booze away from Vir as Vir tried to drink the events of the last two weeks out of his brain. Vir, for his part, lived for the blissed-out shallowness of mind when he could not remember murdering Cartagia.

While Londo barreled back onto Babylon 5 perkier than a witch's tit, an Earth phrase that Londo was very happy to use, Vir only stumbled off half an hour later with a hangover that turned Babylon 5’s buzz of speech into nails on his nerves. He sleepwalked through customs and collapsed into bed.

Vir was still bleary when he went to the Zocalo’s bar and ordered a drink. “The strongest and sweetest you've got,” he said.

The bartender gave him a small smile. “How about a Long Island Iced Tea?”

“Never heard of it. I'll take it,” Vir said, and handed her his credit chip. She rang him up and made him the tawny drink, which tasted like the cold tea Garibaldi liked with the punch of alcohol that Ivanova gravitated to.

He drank. He sighed. Londo would come and get him sooner or later.

“Hey, you!”

Vir looked around in confusion. A Narn who had been drinking nearby had ditched her seat – a warrior her, no less, given the X-shaped leather over her chest and the rhinestone-studded belt – and pulled up a seat next to him. She had carmine eyes and deep bronze skin with ruddy spots, and she had the square-shoulders of a woman on a mission.

“What?” Vir asked. He sipped his Long Island Iced Tea despondently.

“You just came from Centauri Prime, didn't you?” She leaned forward, breaking personal space, and Vir didn't bother to back away.

“I did.”

“You know all the latest things that happened there, don't you?”

“I'm trying to forget.”

She leaned in even closer. Vir could feel heat radiating off her skin. “Tell me what happened to G'Kar!”

Vir sighed. “Why don't you ask him? He got back safely, didn't he?”

“He did, but he won't tell anyone what happened to him! So you're going to tell me,” she said.

“No,” said Vir.

“That's what I – what.”

“I'm not talking about it. Leave me alone.”

The Narn puffed up. “I'm not leaving until you tell me!”

“You're going to be here for a long time.”

She made a frustrated sound much like the ones G'Kar used to make years ago, before the war started and he and Londo only annoyed each other enough to get into fistfights, not to attempt murder, and Vir almost smiled. “I will not stop until you tell me!”

“Or what? You'll yell at me?” Vir finally stopped staring into his glass and glared at her. “If you've heard about what happened on Centauri Prime and on Narn, you know what a mess it was, and if you think I was there, you'd know that I was in the middle of that mess. I'd have faced far worse menaces than you. Leave. Me. Alone!”

“Not until you tell me!”

Vir went back to his drink. “Nope.”

“I’ll make your life miserable,” she hissed.

“Really?” G’Kar said.

The Narn turned to face G’Kar, who was sitting behind her, trapping her between him and Vir, and the color drained from her face.

Vir choked on his drink.

“Uncle! You’re here! I thought you were still resting,” the Narn said quickly.

G’Kar’s face was calm, and in his eye was a storm barely contained. The bartender gave him a chocolate drink with whipped cream, and G’Kar plucked the cherry off the top and neatly beheaded it between his teeth before replying. “I decided I wanted a drink. Now, G’Dan, why are you harassing Mollari’s assistant about what happened?”

“Because,” G’Dan said, composing herself quickly, “he must have been there during the death of Cartagia and many of us want to know what happened!”

“So, since I will not tell you what happened, you’re going to ask others about it?”  G’Kar’s smile grew sharp like a knife. “Though I have asked for respite from it from everyone on the station.”

“Someone had to do it!” G’Dan said.

“So you’d turn to a Centauri instead of respecting your uncle’s wishes. How,” G’Kar breathed, “respectful.”

Vir wondered if it was safe to run away. He doubted it. G’Kar was the eye of a storm that had enveloped the entire bar if the silence was anything to judge by.

“And here you are, defending one,” G’Dan snapped back.

Oh shit, Vir thought.

G’Kar’s smile could have cut steel. “The ambassador and his assistant are _mine_ to deal with. I believe I made that clear. Or do I have to reiterate it, child of my cousin’s child?”

G’Dan finished her drink and stood. Vir thought she did a good job of putting on a brave face. “Then I’ll go, G’Kar. But you will have to tell us what happened sooner or later. The entire world wants to know!”

“The entire world can be happy with everyone else’s tale,” G’Kar said. “Good night.”

G’Dan pressed her hands to her chest, then shoved them away violently. “Good night,” she said, then stalked away with as much dignity as she could manage.

Vir sucked up as much of his Long Island Iced Tea as he could. This was not a good place to be tonight. He would go home and see what Londo had in his cupboards. He would drink that. He would not be near a ticking Narn.

“How are you doing, Vir?”

Vir sputtered and got tea everywhere. G’Kar patted Vir on the back until he stopped hacking.

“I - you - “ Vir said, and looked up. The storm had cleared from G’Kar’s face; now it was a sunny day directed at him, and G’Kar’s hand was gentle on his back. The background buzz of the bar filtered back in. “I’m fine.”

“Did you just get back in today?” G’Kar settled in the seat next to Vir and sipped his drink. He got some whipped cream on his nose and wiped it off with one finger, then licked it off. “I’ve been here for a few days.”

“Yes, this morning,” Vir said. G’Kar mopped up the spilled tea with his napkin. Vir felt his cheeks warm. “What are you doing here?”

“They don’t deliver hot cocoa to the rooms, so I decided to go get some for myself,” G’Kar said. “I’ve had a craving for Earther foods ever since I got home, so I’ve been indulging.”

There was something strange about that sentence, but Vir couldn’t put his finger on it. His head felt lighter now, and he leaned against G’Kar. “Not Narn food?”

“That would require talking to Narns, and as you may have noticed, many of my conversations with them have taken a political bent.” G’Kar sipped his cocoa. “Or they’re hero worshipping me. Both of them involve talking about what happened and I don’t have the energy or the time for that. And that doesn’t include the things I can’t talk about involving you and Mollari.” He set his cup down with a heavy thud. “Mr. Allan was kind enough to let me take time off, but part of me wishes he hadn’t so I could fend people off with work. I can deal with work drama. I’m beginning to miss work drama. These political ploys, though - you know how they are. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.”

“That’s not funny,” Vir moaned. He twisted around so he could get a good look at the leather strap over G’Kar’s eye. “It’s really gone.”

“It is,” G’Kar said. He smiled down at Vir. “But Dr. Franklin says there’s enough of the optic nerve left that I could get a prosthetic! I could see again!”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Vir said. He waved his hand at G’Kar. “I thought you said you were seeing with the eye socket.”

“The thing about revelation,” G’Kar said, “is that it doesn’t last more than a few days. All I have now is a headache if I turn my head too fast when the pain medication wears off.”

“Oh.” Vir sipped at his tea again. It was almost gone. No wonder his head was starting to feel so light. “You never did explain what you were seeing. You were talking about empty things and lights and all that, and you were acting strangely after Cartagia died and, and lots of things.”

“I think you’re too tipsy for me to get into that,” G’Kar said. He took Vir’s drink (“Hey!”) and sipped it. “One of these can knock out a grown man. Why are you drinking this?”

“You say that like I’m not a grown man,” Vir said. “And it works for Londo. I’m sure he can’t see his face in the mirror anymore after everything he’s done. I want to do that too after everything I did.”

G’Kar looked left, then right, then leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s a way to do that.”

Vir leaned back. “How?”

“You take a knife,” G’Kar said, gesturing with the cherry stem, “and you shove it - “

“You stop that,” Vir said. “I don’t need to know. Besides, I’m not that much of a lightweight. This was not my first drink of the evening.”

“Is that so,” G’Kar said.

“Ok, maybe it was, but I wanted to get drunk.”

“So I’m seeing,” G’Kar said. “Is Mollari in his quarters?”

Vir shrugged.

“Good.” G’Kar stood. “Pay your bill. I’m walking you home.”

“What?”

G’Kar gave his credit chip to the bartender. “I’m paying for his drink as well as mine.”

“G’Kar, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine,” Vir said.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!”

“You’re not.”

The bartender leaned in between them. “Do I need to make him leave?” she asked Vir.

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Vir said, shaking his head rapidly. His head felt only loosely attached to his body. “He’s just being - weird.” He glared at G’Kar. “You’re not my father. First of all, you’re too nice. Even Cartagia was nicer than my father.” He paused for breath. “That’s a lie. Cartagia was evil. My father just never loved me.” He was rambling, wasn’t he? Vir shut up before he said anything that would make things worse.

“Not only are you too drunk, but I am too sober,” G’Kar said. “And I meant Mollari. Let’s get you back to your bed so you can sleep this off.”

Vir stared up at G’Kar. It was bizarre, seeing that face wreathed in concern. Once, G’Kar had sneered at him over the negotiating table when Vir came to talk on Londo’s behalf and stole Vir’s GameChild to boot; once, Vir had cowered in his room as G’Kar screamed his throat raw at Sheridan and the security guards; once, G’Kar had broken his arm once in a berserk rage;  once, Vir had carried G’Kar to safety when he was unconscious and bloody; once, G’Kar had held him like a concerned parent and murmured nonsense while the blood of Cartagia was still metaphorically wet on Vir’s hands.

“Fine, I’ll go, but only this one time,” Vir said.

G’Kar smiled. “Thank you. Let’s go.”

Vir followed G’Kar out the bar and into side corridors, through parts of the station he hadn’t seen before. “Where are we going?”

“Avoiding anywhere there would be Narns or Centauri. I think being spotted by either of them would end badly for us given my notoriety.” G’Kar steered Vir down a passage. “We’ll be going near the pak’ma’ra, so I don’t think we’ll be noticed.”

“They won’t mind?” Vir asked.

“They’re very pleasant, and they’ve helped in several murder investigations,” G’Kar said. “Garibaldi and I asked them to contact us if they found a body they thought was a victim of unnatural causes before they ate it in exchange for carrion from the mess hall.”

“Oh,” said Vir. “Have you heard them sing?”

“I have,” G’Kar said. His smile grew wider. “They’re very beautiful.”

“They are. Londo likes their singing.”

“Does he know what they sing about?” They were in the middle of pak’ma’ra territory now; that was obvious from the smell.

Vir shook his head. “No.”

“They tell each other what they’ve learned over the past few months,” G’Kar said. “They’re trying to learn everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” G’Kar looked as happy as a child now. “They’re called lazy, but they don’t work in order to gain riches or fame. They’re intent on learning as much about the universe as they can!”

Vir looked at the pak’ma’ra sitting around and talking to each other in their whispery voices. They didn’t look like the scholars of the universe. They looked like the spoo of the universe. “Then why are they greedy?”

“They don’t use a monetary system like most species do,” G’Kar said as they reached the elevators. “They usually barter for goods or trade one set of tasks for another. So they won’t sell you anything because your money is worthless to them.”

Vir blinked. “I don’t get it.”

“Think on it when you have a clearer head,” G’Kar said. The elevator dinged open; a few pak’ma’ra stepped out and Vir and G’Kar stepped in. It still smelled of pak’ma’ra, and Vir wrinkled his nose. G’Kar seemed unaffected. “Green 2.”

The elevator dinged again and zoomed away.

Vir looked up at G’Kar. He was starting to regain the weight he lost on Centauri Prime, going by the growing fullness of his face. There was no sign of pain in his stance, nor the awful swaying of the starved that had haunted him during those weeks. G’Kar had also lost the last of the angry energy that had animated him when Vir had first met him and had been slowly draining from him since; he now had the stilled serenity of a stone. Vir wasn’t sure if the calm that suffused G’Kar could be called happiness, but it was more content than he’d ever seen the Narn for as long as he’d known him.

G’Kar noticed Vir staring and glanced down at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” Vir stammered. Concern drew over G’Kar’s face and Vir flushed. “Um, you seem like you’re recovering pretty well. I was worried.”

There was something intimate about G’Kar’s smile now, as if Vir was a son he was confiding in. “I’m fine, Vir. I’ve been taken care of ever since I returned to Babylon 5. There’s no permanent damage other than my eye, and there’s no infection there. There will be some scarring on my back, but Dr. Franklin says I can get skin grafts for the ones that would limit my movement.”

“Good,” Vir said.

“And how are you, Vir?”

“You already asked me that,” Vir said. “I said I was fine.”

“You did,” G’Kar said. “I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Which is why you’re walking me to my room.”

“Yes. If Mollari is buying things he doesn’t need and you’re getting drunk, something has gone wrong. It should be the other way around.”

The doors of the elevators opened and the two of them stepped into the diplomatic hallways. At this time of night, they were deserted.

“Why are you worried about me?” Vir asked.

“Because I owe you,” G’Kar said. “And because you deserve better than to drink yourself into oblivion. If I wanted a drunken Centauri cynic in my life - “ G’Kar barked bitter laughter. “I’ve only just escaped the last one.”

“But you don’t mind me?” Vir asked.

“I like you. You’re no empty husk.” They were at the door to the Centauri ambassador’s quarters, and G’Kar clasped Vir’s arm softly, his bitter smile turning soft and fond. “I don’t want you to turn yourself into him, all emptied out and trying to fill the hole with drink and ideals that don’t fit. Can you get yourself in?”

Vir nodded and waved his ID over the scanner, then entered the passcode. The door whirred open. Vir went inside and G’Kar followed him. They were well into the room before they realized they were not alone.

Londo was on the couch, his arm over his eyes and a bottle of brivari tucked between his legs. “Good evening, Vir. What kept you?”

“I was,” Vir said, and he saw G’Kar put a finger over his mouth and start to back out the door and he started talking loud and fast to cover G’Kar’s escape, “in the Zocalo having dinner. I wanted to have some Earth food now that we’re back on Babylon 5. I’m going to bed now.”

“Good. You’ll want to be well rested for tomorrow. The paperwork from homeworld is endless! I don’t know how I’d get anything done without you.” G’Kar stepped back one time, two, footsteps soft. “Why are you walking out the door?”

“I, er, dropped a button in the hall,” Vir stammered.

“I know that the person moving isn’t you, Vir. I’ve spent enough hangovers listening to your footsteps ringing in my ears to know what they sound like.”

“There’s nobody else here,” Vir lied. G’Kar nodded frantically and tried to make his next step toward the hall even quieter.

“Did you bring home a little friend to share your bed with?” Londo chortled, then sat up and pulled the brivari from between his legs. “Don’t be shy! I don’t mind that you brought someone home!  I want to meet the person you managed to lure in. I can move to a room that will give you privacy, unless of course your friend needs someone listening in as part of their cultural rituals.”

G’Kar’s face was incredulous; he backed up against a lamp, fell backwards and caught himself on the wall with an ‘oof.’

Londo’s grin faded as he turned around. His whole body went stiff as his arm sank from his face to reveal wide eyes. “G’Kar?”

“Who were you expecting, Lennier?” G’Kar snapped, then pushed himself off the wall and dusted himself off.

“What are you doing here?” Londo rose from the couch. “Did Vir drag you here so we could,” and no mocking edge could hide the hope in his voice, “mend our burnt bridges?”

G’Kar deliberately looked away from Londo and stared at the wall, his one eye starting to fill with storm clouds once more. “If any other sentient creatures existed in this apartment, I’d tell them they need to stop neglecting Vir so they can wallow in a bottle, but since they don’t, I’ll hope the universe listens instead.”

Vir attempted to blend into the wall. When the two of them crossed swords like this, it was like they eclipsed the world around them; the only thing they saw was each other. Getting in between them would end in him being a fly caught in a hurricane.

“Surely you’re here for more than that,” Londo said.

“More than what? Than to help one of my friends?” G’Kar said.

Londo opened his mouth, turned to Vir, turned back to G’Kar, and said, “ _Him?_ ”

“Me?” Vir asked. He hadn’t realized G’Kar thought of him as a friend. The more he thought about it, the more it boggled him. He and G’Kar had barely talked. Vir was barely a speck of light in G’Kar’s universe as compared to Londo’s sun; the idea that G’Kar had turned his back on Londo but still saw him - no, that he valued him as a friend - Vir was too drunk to handle the idea.

“Who else?” G’Kar said.

“What - but - he’s a Centauri!”

“Yes, but he’s the worst Centauri there is.” G’Kar looked over at Vir and raised his brows. “I mean that as the highest praise possible.”

“Well, that is true. He’s a terrible Centauri,” Londo admitted.

“Hey!” said Vir. “I can be a good Centauri! I...wait.”

“A good murderously imperious fop who thinks the galaxy revolves around you? I think you can be better than that, unlike beings excluded from my universe,” G’Kar said. “I have to give your women credit for putting up with you, since they’re usually the first things sacrificed during a power play.”

“We’re not all like that,” said Vir. He couldn’t think of any Centauri man not like that who weren’t dead or Minister Virini, who was horribly racist but harmless, but he was sure there were someone out there.

“Yes, you are,” said G’Kar.

“Some friend you are, insulting his species to his face,” Londo said.

“Unlike some people, the Narns do not stab people in the back. We do it from the front,” G’Kar said.

“You always yap about how the Centauri are evil when your people are just as vicious!” Londo snapped. “You ask for sympathy when you would have wiped us out if the Shadow War had not started!”

“Have I ever asked that the Narns be loved?” G’Kar said, and he finally locked eyes with Londo. “Have I ever said we were helpless victims? Have I ever claimed we never gave back as good as we got? But the thing I’ve never done is beg to be forgiven with one hand while stabbing someone with the other. We’ve never asked someone to forget what we did so we could do it again. There are Centauri I could trust, but they’ll have to earn it like Vir did, because the first time I trusted a Centauri before he earned it, he started the war that ended with my world being bombarded with asteroids. And the second time I dared trust him,” G’Kar said, and he lifted his eyepatch to show Londo the sunken eyelid underneath, “I got a souvenir.”

Londo blanched.

“What you fail to remember, Mollari, is that my people exist outside of the Centauri’s fear or desire to conquer them,” G’Kar said, and he pulled the eyepatch back down. “I owe you nothing.” With that, he turned away and stalked toward the door.

“You once said you wanted to turn our bones into flutes for your children,” Londo said.

G’Kar spun back around, enraged. “I don’t anymore!”

“And why not?”

“Because there’s no point in killing someone who’s going to destroy themselves!” G’Kar yelled back. Then he ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Why am I here talking to you,” he muttered, “when I promised myself I wouldn’t go through this again?” And with a frustrated noise, he turned back around again and stormed out the door.

Vir sank onto the chair opposite the couch in the calm after the storm. Londo stared at where G’Kar had been long after G’Kar was gone, his mouth slightly open. After a long windswept moment, he turned to Vir. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“He talked to me.” Londo turned to Vir. A smile was blooming on his face.

“What?”

“He came back!”

“Londo, no,” Vir said. He rubbed his forehead. “He just said that the last time he trusted you, he lost his eye, and then stormed off saying he promised himself he wouldn’t talk to you again. I don’t think that really counts.”

“Well, this morning, he said I didn’t exist in his universe anymore!” Londo gestured at the door, where G’Kar had been. “But he’ll still argue with me!”

Vir’s head was starting to hurt. “If he asked you to not exist in his universe, you should respect that.”

“I need to talk to him again,” Londo said. “We have unfinished business.”

“What do you have that’s unfinished with G’Kar?” Vir asked. “He told you he doesn’t want to see you again! And that’s a lot better than he could do.”

“What do you mean?” Londo seemed truly baffled as he started to gesture wildly. “On Centauri Prime, we accomplished great things together!”

“Londo, you started the war that destroyed Narn! Even if you freed Narn later, that doesn’t change all the people who got hurt and died!” So many of them dead, like drops of blood from a vein, and then the many wounded or forever disfigured - Vir had saved 2000 of them but there were millions more out there, billions, a world on fire reflected in G’Kar’s eye. “On Centauri Prime, he had no choice but to work with you! This might even be his way of repaying you - now you don’t have all that death hanging over your head.”

Londo stared after G’Kar through the door. Some strange, raw emotion flickered through his eyes. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Vir said.

Londo’s mouth twitched. He turned away from Vir and lay back down on the couch, putting an arm back over his head. “I’ll leave it for now.” A pause. He lowered his arm down from over his eyes. “Do you feel neglected?”

Vir’s jaw dropped. “You’re asking me?”

“Do I have to say it twice?” Londo said, voice rough.

“Usually you ignore me or tell me to suck it up and that one time you sent me to Minbar,” Vir babbled. “You never actually ask me these things.”

“I’m asking now,” Londo said. “Do you feel neglected?”

“No,” Vir said. “You’re doing fine.” Vir had all the Londo he could want. He had Londo back from the Shadows and from the court. He didn’t need Londo to worry about him - Londo had already done so many stupid things to save people he liked, and Vir didn’t want them to get into more trouble because of him. Vir would deal with the aftermath of Cartagia himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Londo asked.

Vir looked away. “I don’t feel neglected. Why are you asking me now of all times? You’ve never worried before.”

“I always worry,” Londo said quietly. “That is why I sent you away last year.”

Vir blinked. “Really?”

“I knew you were upset about,” and Londo wet his lips, “all of what was going on, and I was afraid you would do something stupid and noble and futile. I could not turn away from the path I was on, but I could help you not be my collateral damage.”

“Not like Narn,” Vir said.

Londo flinched and looked away. “Death stains you. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I won’t,” Vir said. “I’ll be too busy taking care of you to turn into you.”

Londo laughed. “This time, Vir, I am taking care of you. That’s official. If G’Kar of all people is worried, I should keep an eye on you.” He relaxed and put his arm back over his eyes. “Now go to bed. You look tired.”

Vir smiled and patted Londo’s shoulder. “I will if you do. How much brivari have you had tonight?”

“Not nearly enough,” Londo said, “but I get the feeling you won’t stop nagging me until I sleep.”

“Nope,” Vir said, and he squeezed Londo’s hand. “If I have to get a decent night’s sleep, you are too or you’re going to be insufferable tomorrow.”

“Ah, but insufferable is what I do best,” Londo chuckled.

Vir gave his hand another pat, then went to bed. Perhaps he wouldn’t go to the bar tomorrow. Londo could share his brivari.


	4. The Very Short Night of Londo Mollari

In truth, Londo could not articulate the reason why he needed to speak to G’Kar again. Some kind of closure, yes, but what kind?

It was that question that kept him up well after he had wheedled Vir into going to bed, made a note to ask him about his drinking in the morning, went over his schedule and poured himself a generous glass of brivari. It was this that stuck in his mind when he went to bed with his mouth raw with the burn of alcohol.

His dreams were plagued with strange images of the future and the past. Shadow ships in the sky, a flaming hand, the death dream - but the one that haunted him this night was much simpler:

He was in a hall in the palace. Cartagia had G’Kar chained up, and G’Kar glared venom at the emperor. Cartagia told Londo, _I was just thinking: I don’t like the way he’s looking at me_. They both turned and looked at G’Kar, who glared back at them despite only standing with help from the guards. Cartagia continued:  _I’m trying to decide what to do about it. Would you care to make a suggestion?_

 _Oh, no, I’m sure whatever Your Majesty decides will be appropriate. I should go and pack,_  Londo would reply. Then he would walk away.

From behind him, Cartagia sighed. _No, I don’t care at all for the way he looks at me._  And then he practically sang his next words, words that Londo knew Cartagia had said but had not heard himself: _Pluck out his eye!_

He should look back, Londo knew. But he never dared to watch. He was scared to look. He didn’t like what he might see. Not the gore of the missing eye, no, but the look on G’Kar’s face as he realized that he’d been abandoned.

At the end of the corridor was a door. When he opened it, Lady Morella pointed at him from the couch, a blindfold marring her face. Her lips formed words.

It was this dream that jolted him awake.

He reached for the goblet of brivari at the side of his bed and finished it in a single gulp. Li suggested that worries be drowned in wine and Londo intended to do that. The red of brivari was better than those red eyes wide with fear and betrayal.

He couldn’t look back in his dream, but perhaps he could look around in waking hours. What was it that Morella had said to him?

_Save the eye that does not see._

Londo raised his hand to his left eye as coldness gripped him.


	5. Boys' Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 4x8, The Illusion of Truth.
> 
> I need to thank Avelera for helping me with this ridiculous chapter. Without her help, this never would have come out so well! Thank you!!

G’Kar had been home on Babylon 5 for - he didn’t want to check how many days. His injuries were fading, the pain medication Dr. Franklin had given him made his eye socket and back non-issues, and Zack and the others in security had dropped off take-out for him several times since he was too engrossed in writing to feed himself.

There was no one else he could talk to. The Earthers were all fussing over the new propaganda film from Earth, or with wooing someone, or were busy with security, or just weren’t interested in talking to him now. He didn’t take it personally: Garibaldi had been through a stressful time just as G’Kar had; Sheridan had come back from the dead, apparently, and he and Delenn had fought gods; Zack was dealing with low supplies and bad news from Earth; Marcus was off doing Ranger things. And though G’Kar wasn’t being mobbed by Narns any longer, he didn’t know if he could go back among them anytime soon.

G’Kar wasn’t a Narn anymore. Not since he had screamed for Cartagia. He didn’t know if he could go among his people without feeling like a sham and he didn’t want to find out now, with the wounds still fresh.

That didn’t leave him anyone to turn to except the book. He’d written pages and pages about his capture and escape, exorcised the emotions from him with verse on the page. His hands were black with ink and still he was not finished. But a book had no hands, no warm body, no soft skin, and tonight G’Kar could feel his skin crawling with lack of touch from another.

He cleaned himself of ink. He picked out a velvety red tunic and a long jacket lined with brown-green scales. On Narn, the combination of textures would look very dashing; on Babylon 5, the color combination was welcomed instead. His gauntlets gave his still-bruised wrists breathing room and his gloves were a comforting heaviness.

G’Kar knew he was handsome. He was broad-shouldered, his spots were dark and large, he had a strong chin and a firm mouth and a clever tongue, but when he looked in the mirror, he cringed. There was that leather patch over his eye, an alarm screaming his weakness to everyone in the vicinity. The aliens wouldn’t care, but the Narns around would. He didn’t even sleep with Narns anymore, hadn’t for decades, but he’d be able to feel their gazes. The tale of his escape was well-known now and they knew he had been in Cartagia’s dungeons. Some of them whispered that he’d gone soft in the head from it and that was why he had not chosen to lead Narn.

He balled his fist against the mirror over his lost eye. He was weak for losing it, but he was not weak now. He had saved his world and the only cost was his eye and his right to belong. Now he was a new creature who was definitely capable of picking someone up at a bar for a night of passion, so he wasn’t going to worry about it.

He could do this.

The tension between his shoulders started to ease as he walked the familiar path to the Zocalo. There weren’t many Narns there, but the few around either stared or started talking in hushed whispers. G’Kar ignored them. There was nothing to be done about that now.

The humans around looked more tense than usual, so perhaps they wouldn’t be open to being asked out by an intimidating-looking Narn. He had no chance of doing anything with the Centauri, nor did he want to after the last month. Perhaps he should ask out a tender-faced Abbai tonight, or one of the Brakiri looking sultry-eyed around the bar.

So many beautiful people to choose from, to ask and woo for a night of anonymous bliss. His toes curled at the thought of it.

“G’Kar!”

His shoulders went up to brace himself; the blow landed squarely between his shoulders, a soft pat. Not an attack. G’Kar made himself relax.

“Marcus, it’s good to see you again,” he said, turning to the man beside him.

“I just got off patrol. Word on the station was that you had holed up in your room and weren’t taking visitors, so I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” Marcus said. His eyes, usually so bright, were downcast; his confident shoulders were deflated.

“Of course I’d want to see you,” G’Kar said. “You’re my third friend who is not a Narn.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Am I?”

“Perhaps not yet, but I’d like it if you became my friend.” G’Kar smiled at Marcus. “You came after me when I was looking for Garibaldi. If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have been able to get the information back in time. Thank you.”

“No, don’t thank me. I let you get captured,” Marcus said.  “And your eye - “

“Being captured put me in a position to save Narn,” G’Kar said. He’d heard enough about his eye for a lifetime. There was only one person he wanted to hear apologies for it from and there was no way he would, so there was no point. “If you apologize, I will be offended, and few things are more dangerous than an offended Narn.”

Marcus smiled a little. “If that’s the case, I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Let me buy you a drink,” Marcus said. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Are you volunteering to be my company for the evening?” G’Kar asked. He doubted Marcus would be interested in being G’Kar’s company through the night - G’Kar had eyes, after all, he knew how Marcus mooned after Ivanova - but having someone to talk to about something other than Centauri Prime and the war would be good. It wasn’t as if talking for a while would chase all the eligible company away.

(And maybe Marcus would be interested. He was a good-looking man, a playful soul, which would no doubt translate into an enthusiastic and playful partner.)

“I am.” They started walking to the bar. Marcus’s smile was wide and impish now. “You’ve been cooped up in your rooms for far too long. You came here looking for company, am I right?”

“You are. I’ve needed some time to myself to think about what’s happened, but there’s some things that are better thought about with another.” G’Kar picked up the drink menu and flipped through to the martinis. “Earther drinks have the best names.”

“Really? I thought you’d find them immature.” Marcus flipped through the drink menu and signaled the bartender. “I’d like the 2356 Proxima Pride zinfandel, please.” She nodded and took his credit chip.

G’Kar grinned. “I think they’re amusing. One of the things I like about humans is how they don’t take themselves too seriously.”

“You seem very serious when you’re taking care of your people,” Marcus said. The bartender brought him the glass of wine, which Marcus swirled, sniffed, and sipped happily. “Narns in general seem very serious.”

“We’ve been in a war. Serious is warranted,” G’Kar said. “All the more reason to have some fun in my off hours. Perhaps you could use some as well. Being a Ranger must be stressful.” He flipped through to page 7, mixed drinks, and raised his brow playfully. “Maybe a Screaming Orgasm would be good for you.”

Marcus laughed.

“It’s this one here. Dark chocolate vodka, Irish cream, coffee liqueur and amaretto,” G’Kar said, innocently pointing at the drink.

“That actually does look good,” Marcus said. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you?”

“When Narn was newly free and I was a teenager, humans came to trade food and supplies. I have very fond memories of sharing chocolate bars with my friends. It is a comforting taste.” G’Kar signaled the bartender as she came back. “I’d like a Desperate Housewife.” She nodded and went to mix it, his credit chip in hand.

“You had a chocolate drink when you were with King Arthur last year,” Marcus said.

“You have a good memory,” G’Kar said. He sighed. “I miss him. We’ve kept in contact through the Narn Resistance, and he was doing fine last I spoke to him, but I miss drinking with him.”

“You’ll be able to talk more often with Narn freed,” Marcus said.

“Maybe. The rebuilding effort will take time.” G’Kar got his martini and thanked the bartender, pocketed his chip. “I have my duties here as well. I’m going back to my ambassadorial duties as well as helping the security staff on Tuesday. That should give me time in the evenings after I check with the council to call people back home.”

“Working on rebuilding?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, and visiting with my family.” G’Kar took a sip; the Zocalo’s bar hadn’t had quality flavorings for a long time with the embargo from Earth, but the chocolate was there and that was more than enough. “I’m still trying to re-establish contact since the bombings.”

“Your parents?”

G’Kar shook his head. “Died during the first occupation. My uncle took me in. My cousins have children and their children have had children.” He smiled ruefully. "They said this station was unlikely to last the year. Who would have thought it would become a safer place than homeworld?" He didn’t know how many of them had survived. He didn’t know if he’d ever know. He - dammit, Marcus was right there and G’Kar was neglecting the conversation for the loneliness he was trying to avoid tonight. He tried to brighten his smile. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Marcus sipped his wine. G’Kar sipped his martini. “Let’s speak of more cheerful matters,” he told Marcus.

“Let’s. I don’t know that much about you personally. You’re the current spokesperson for the Narns on-station, Delenn trusts you with Ranger business, and you do brave and dangerous things when your friends are in danger. What do you do for fun?” Marcus asked.

“You’re too kind. Someone had to go find Mr. Garibaldi. I was simply the first person to realize that.” G’Kar said, demurring. “As for what I do with my time: I cook. I read. Sometimes I borrow Mr. Garibaldi’s movies and watch those. I’ve been writing recently, but I don’t know if that’s what you would call fun.” He sipped again. “It something more cathartic than simple pleasure.”

"I keep a diary too," Marcus said, flushing.

"Another writer!"

"Oh, no, it's nothing serious. Doodles, things I ate for breakfast, a little poetry..." Marcus trailed off. "Nothing worth mentioning, really."

“It’s always worth mentioning,” G’Kar said, and raised his drink as if to toast. “Writing is a reflection of the soul.”

"Well then, my soul speaks in badly metered rhyming couplets. Never did find out what to rhyme with 'orange’,” Marcus said. He clinked his glass against G’Kar’s. They both drank.

“Learn Narn. We can rhyme orange,” G’Kar said. He opened his mouth to say something about how to keep an eye on meter when he heard a familiar voice and swiveled his swivel chair around.

“And then she tells me that she’s engaged to him, which is an Earth tradition where you are formally preparing to be lawfully united but aren’t yet, as a sort of preparation period, and he gave her a ring! And she’s been rushing the rituals for marriage since then!”

“Isn’t this a good thing? I mean, she and Sheridan seem happy together! Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

“Yes. Yes, I have,” Lennier said.

Vir sighed. “I know you’re worried about her, but humans take things faster than Minbari.” The two aides were walking through the tables to the bar, so engrossed in conversation that they hadn’t noticed G’Kar and Marcus.

G’Kar waved to Vir. Vir looked over when he saw movement and waved back shyly. Lennier saw the movement and looked over to G’Kar and Marcus, then asked Vir something in a voice too low to overhear. Vir nodded and the two of them approached.

“It’s good to see you out of your rooms,” Lennier said, and he bowed to G’Kar with his fingers making a triangle.

G’Kar pressed his hands to his chest and bowed back. “It’s good to see you as well. I regret that I haven’t had a chance to visit the Minbari embassy formally yet, but it seems you and Delenn have been busy with helping the worlds the Shadows and Vorlons hurt rebuild. I scheduled a meeting so that I didn’t get in the way.”

“Delenn has been very busy,” Lennier said primly. “I’d like a lemon soda.”

“Londo’s been busy trying to figure out how to make sure all the other worlds aren’t mad at us for declaring war on them,” Vir said. “I’d like tarenn tea. G’Kar, you’ve never let schedules stop you from talking to Delenn before. ”

“Mr. Allan said that if he caught me working before Tuesday, he’d extend my vacation until Thursday. I have a bad enough case of cabin fever as is.” G’Kar sighed and moved out of the way as the bartender slid two drinks to Vir and Lennier. “I am going to go mad if I don’t find something useful to occupy my time.”

“You could talk to your people. The Narns have been clamoring for your attention since your return,” Marcus said.

G’Kar groaned. “That is exactly what I am avoiding. I’ve been helping people reconnect with their families and contact the homeworld, but small talk inevitably turns to the events of Cartagia’s death, which I have no interest in reliving.” He looked around; the bar suddenly seemed far too open. Anyone could listen in. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Of course,” Marcus said.

“I saw an open booth on the way in,” Vir said. His poker face was better than before; G’Kar only saw a flicker of unease from the mention of Cartagia. Damn, he should have thought before bringing that up. “Let’s go there.”

The three of them followed Vir to the booth in the corner of the room. G’Kar and Vir sat on the inside and Marcus and Lennier took the aisle seats. Vir sucked on his straw nervously.

“Are you talking to Lennier on Mollari’s behalf?” G’Kar asked. “It seems that he makes you do everything these days. He’s running you ragged.”

Vir looked back up at him, shoulders setting like a man preparing to throw a punch. “I’m Londo’s attache and his friend. I’m supposed to help him and I want to.”

G’Kar closed his eye. “Fair enough.” Vir had ordered something Minbari, which guaranteed that it wasn’t alcoholic, so he shouldn’t worry about him. If Vir said that he was doing fine on his own, then he should accept it.

“Besides,” Vir added, his voice warming up, “Lennier is my friend. We’re catching up after everything that happened. Between him helping take out the Shadows and Vorlons and everything that happened on Centauri Prime and Narn, there’s a lot.”

“I didn’t realize you and G’Kar were on speaking terms,” Lennier said.

“G’Kar is my friend too. I think,” Vir said.

G’Kar nodded and lowered his voice. If anyone heard him, there would be hell to pay from both the Narns and the Centauri. “You _are_ my friend.”

Their booth was enveloped in a hushed silence. Marcus and Lennier looked at each other, then at G’Kar and Vir. Vir smiled and raised his drink; G’Kar raised his and clinked their glasses together.

“I think we’ve just witnessed history in the making,” Marcus said.

“A miracle?” Lennier asked.

“No, not a miracle,” G’Kar said. "According to Mr. Garibaldi's films, those involve pregnant virgins and fat men delivering improbable gifts."

Silence fell again as they all considered this.

Vir piped up: "Let’s just say that diplomacy won in the end here."

“I don’t know,” G’Kar said. “There’s some entertainment in a _Babylon Carol_. ‘It's in the singing of a pak’ma’ra choir; it’s learning your world’s no longer on fire; it's true: wherever you find love, it feels like B-5!’”

Silence fell a third time. Finally Marcus said, wide-eyed, “Why are you singing a song from a two hundred year old movie adaption of a Dickens novel?”

“Why not?” G’Kar said.

“I’m very confused,” said Lennier.

“I thought I was the only person on the station who knew _A Muppet Christmas Carol_!” Marcus said.

“Mr. Garibaldi gave me some movies to watch while I was in prison,” G’Kar said. “He said if I had to sing, I should sing from those so I stopped scaring the other prisoners.”

“Did he show you the one about the couple getting married on an island? Londo wouldn’t stop singing from that for a week,” Vir hissed.

“Mamma Mia, here I go again?” G’Kar quoted. Vir nodded.

Marcus said, “I think Mr. Garibaldi has too much time on his hands.”

“All the humans do,” Lennier said. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Marcus said.

“They move so fast! It’s like watching a landslide,” Lennier said.

“Watching Earthgov _is_ rather like being in the middle of a landslide,” Marcus said. “Things just keep on getting worse.”

“Of course,” Lennier said. Something in his tone said that he didn’t mean Earthgov.

“Do you think things will get worse?” Vir asked. “All the humans have been on edge since I got back.”

“I’ve noticed,” G’Kar said. “This may sound callous, but this may be a good time for things to boil over. Everyone’s still war-ready from fighting the Shadows, the rest of the universe is quiet, and morale is high.”

“That may be, but we can’t just attack Earth,” Marcus said.

“Can we talk about something else?” asked Vir. “Please?”

“What do you do,” Lennier asked, “if you love someone but they don’t love you and never will?”

Marcus looked away. Vir’s cheeks colored.

“Move on,” said G’Kar.

“But what if they’re the only person you could ever love?” Lennier asked.

“They’re not,” G’Kar said. “There’s billions of people in the galaxy. People lose loved ones and gain new ones every day. Don’t lose yourself waiting for flowers in a barren field. Go find a new love! It may be hard, but it’s not as painful as waiting for someone who will not reciprocate your feelings.”

“But by that logic, one could wait for that person’s lover to die so they would fall in love with you,” Lennier said.

“By that logic, you’re a member of the Centauri court,” G’Kar said.

Vir spluttered bubbles through his straw. G’Kar whapped him on the back until he stopped coughing. “I’d protest,” he said weakly, “but it’s true.”

Marcus asked, "Isn't the process of winning someone's love beautiful in itself, though it may take all the time in the world?”

“No,” G’Kar said. “We’re in wars. People die. There’s no romance in loving a corpse, whether a literal dead body or someone whose heart is dead to you.”

“Um,” Vir said, “What if you want to love someone but you don’t know if anyone would love you back?”

G’Kar softened. “Just because everyone around you is too distracted to know your worth, it doesn't mean you don't deserve love. Sometimes you have to just wait to meet someone or wait for a friendship to develop into something more. Sometimes you have to go looking on your own.”

Vir looked at Lennier out of the corner of his eye. Lennier didn’t notice because he was so absorbed in his drink. “And if the person you hope for waits for someone else?” Vir asked.

“Then you move on and hope they come to their senses,” G’Kar said.

Vir sighed. “It seems hopeless.”

"You have more to hope for than one waiting for another who will never love them back.” G’Kar said. Marcus coughed nervously.

“How do you know all this?” Lennier asked. His voice was as carefully neutral as any politician’s.

G’Kar shrugged. “I’ve loved before.”

Marcus asked shyly, “What was your first time like?”

G’Kar took a large drink before he spoke. “I were in the Narn Resistance as a young man. My best friend at the time and I survived a battle and were so relieved that when we got back to the safehouse, we found an unoccupied room and fumbled in it.” He didn’t dwell on those days very often; he had used them as fuel for his rage when he still stoked those fires. Now all that was left was old grief. He hadn’t thought of S’Nel (rough-handed, quick with a knife and quicker to laugh) in a long time.

“Your best friend at the time?” Vir asked. “What happened?”

G’Kar took another drink. “Two months later, there was another battle. I survived. S’Nel did not.”

“Oh.”

“But we had those two months and the time of our friendship beforehand,” G’Kar said. “If I hadn’t told her about how I felt then, we never would have had that.”

“Did you ever fall in love with someone you couldn't have?” Lennier asked.

“When I was working on a trading ship,” G’Kar said, “I fell in love with the translator Horatio.”

“That’s a human name,” said Vir.

“Yes, it is,” said G’Kar. “That would have been a few years after we made contact with humans. Horatio already had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in young aliens. It was unpleasant, knowing he didn’t feel about me as I did about him, but I got over it in time.”

“What was it like?” Lennier asked.

“Did the species divide affect anything?” Vir asked.

G’Kar took another drink. “It was a mixed-species ship, although most of us were Narn. We had a couple Brakiri and half a dozen humans as our crew. We were reselling Centauri weapons and and scavenging for anything the Dilgar had left behind for us to take back and study.”

“You were active during the Dilgar War?” Vir asked.

G’Kar nodded. “That was when we rose to galactic prominence along with Earth. Narn wasn’t attacked by the Dilgar because they believed it to still be Centauri territory, although they did attack a few of our colonies. They had a non-aggression treaty with the Centauri, and I believe they were waiting for the Centauri to be further weakened by their revolting colonies before breaking that treaty.  That gave us a chance to start trading with other worlds in peace, take any technology we could get our hands on, improve it, and sell it for massive profit.”

“Hence Narn becoming one of the four powers on the Council,” Lennier said. “Since you didn’t have to rebuild from the Dilgar’s attacks and you made many alliances and gained money, you were able to rebuild Narn after the Centauri left and take the stage.”

“Yes. I can only hope we’ll do it again,” G’Kar said. “Anyway, we were all stuck in the same quarters for weeks at a time with no way to get away from each other, so we all got to know each other very quickly. You’d learn who to avoid, who you liked, who drove you up the wall with desire...”

He closed his eye and tried to summon Horatio’s image. He had been kind, with a flash in the pan temper and a sharp wit. His eyes had been an almost unnatural shade of blue, the color of glaciers, and his hair looked like black silk, and his voice curled around his words like the Earth saxaphone, and -

G’Kar facepalmed. He wasn’t thinking of Horatio. He was thinking of Mollari, damn him.

“You ok?” Vir asked.

G’Kar sighed. He had been trying not to think of Londo Mollari, but he kept on popping up at the most inopportune moments. Remembering when they’d shared a bottle of wine at that strip club or remembering when he’d fought with him at that elevator or remembering when he’d touched this bruise on his wrist when putting shackles back on him was exhausting. G’Kar had banished Londo Mollari from his universe because another meeting would end in them both being crushed under the weight of their history.

But at this point, trying to fight thoughts of him off would just get him entangled with old memories of Horatio. Wasn’t their relationship about loving a corpse anyway? Mollari too was in love with the corpse of his world to be a good man; G’Kar had seen the possibility of that good man for a second, had stretched out his hand to him and had it swatted away. There was nothing but death between them.

Who would notice if he talked about Mollari with veiled words?

“I’m fine. He was a maddening man,” G’Kar said, “because he was my equal in many ways and my opposite in others. We’d often argue late into the night about about this and that. I’d usually win, of course, but that never stopped him. He never backed down if he had a cause, which was rare because he was a bit of a coward, but when he did fight he was like a - what do Earthers call it? A tangerine?”

Marcus shook his head.

G’Kar quickly ran his mental tongue over his vocabulary, feeling around for the right word. “Ah! A wolverine, that was it! He was a rabid wolverine. He was very fierce when he protected what he loved.”

“How could you fall in love with someone who you argued with?” Lennier asked.

“There’s something delightful about being able to spar with words, isn’t there?” G’Kar said. “At first it was just that: fighting with nothing held back, our tongues as sharp as swords and just as quick to draw blood. But then there was a,” and he paused, searched for a word that summed up a war and two murder attempts and Dust and Refa and Cartagia, “complication, and we ended up getting to know each other better than we ever thought we would. He became more than someone to simply fight with to me. But I was still a target to him, and he had his,” world, “partner, so he’d never see me as anything more.”

“Was it hard, knowing that?” Marcus asked.

Cold knotted in G’Kar’s chest. “Of course it was,” G’Kar said. “I didn’t want a punching bag. Frankly, I would have been happy if we could have simply been friends.” He took a drink. “He carried himself like an Earth peacock. His eyes were the color of a clean lake, his face was as round and soft as a peach and he had a contagious smile and a laugh that could spread through the crew like wildfire. It was a face I could have been happy with for one night of biting and refusing to talk about it in the morning, but that wasn’t what I wanted the most. I wanted his companionship. I wanted to be able to wake up and not feel like I had to reach for my armor when I saw him there with me.”

“Oh,” Vir said softly. G’Kar looked up and saw a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

“G’fucking’Quan,” G’Kar muttered, and drained his glass.

“What is it?” Marcus asked.

G’Kar looked over the rim of his martini at him and sighed. “My apologies. The thought of him just frustrates me.”

Vir turned a very interesting shade of red. G’Kar grabbed the little menu in the middle of the table; he needed another drink.

Now Lennier was smiling. G’Kar didn’t like the look of that smile. “What?”

“I believe, as the Earthers say, you have a type,” Lennier said primly.

G’Kar almost ripped the menu in half.

“Oh, don’t tease him after he revealed his personal life to us!” Marcus said.

Lennier’s eye twitched. “I was simply stating a fact.”

“I do not have a type,” G’Kar said and glared at the martini list. Maybe he should get something cheaper and efficient, drink it, excuse himself because he was too drunk, go back to his room and never come out again.

“Let’s talk about something else!” Vir squeaked.

Lennier folded his hands delicately. “Like what?”

“Great Maker, anything else!”

“Movies,” Marcus said. “Has anyone seen a movie recently?”

G’Kar shook his head. Lennier said, “Who has had time for movies with everything that’s been going on?”

“They had an excellent new version of _The Gentleman’s Duel_ on the flight back from Centauri Prime,” Mollari said. “Would you mind if I borrowed Vir?”

It took all of G’Kar’s self control to not to jump in his seat. He did not easily startle, but the alcohol and Mollari had that effect on his nerves. Where had he even come from? He’d been so busy glaring at the menu that he hadn’t seen him. How long had he been in earshot?

He wasn’t going to give him anything else to listen in on. “Marcus, I’m going home,” G’Kar said, setting the menu down with deliberate care. “Could you move out of the way?”

“Of course,” Marcus said. He sounded confused, but he moved, and G’Kar slid out of the booth and walked away before anything could start. He was not going to let Mollari happen to him again.

He heard Mollari behind him: “I’m sorry. I didn’t think my mere presence would scare him away.”

“That  is unusual for G’Kar,” said Lennier.

“Is there something I missed?” Marcus asked.

Vir started explaining, but G’Kar didn’t stick around to hear it. He left the bar and walked until he found a quiet space near the pak’ma’ra bathrooms and sat down there.

He was not dealing with Mollari. He was not going to let things start again. Talking to Mollari would just encourage him, so G’Kar would cut things off before Mollari could get a word in. The world always closed in on him around Mollari when they met, but tonight it was claustrophobic. He could barely breathe.  

And in his rush to escape Mollari, G’Kar had utterly forgotten his goal of finding someone to spend the night with. Damn. He couldn’t go back because Mollari was probably hanging around or he’d get questioned about his sudden exit, so what now?

“Pardon me.” The voice had the rough artificiality of a pak’ma’ra translator. G’Kar looked up and saw a pak’ma’ra staring down at him, their face tentacles twitching nervously. “You are G’Kar?”

G’Kar nodded.

“I am Shss’Syasss, called Eater of Notes. I heard that you enjoy having sex with aliens?”

The translating device made it hard to judge tone, but G’Kar knew pak’ma’ras well enough to see that there was no embarrassment or judgement in the body language. pak’ma’ra sex was a very matter of fact thing and they had no problem discussing it with other species when the subject came up. (It usually didn’t.)

“I do,” G’Kar said.

“And I heard that you cook for them afterwards.”

“Yes, if they wish to stay,” G’Kar said.

Eater of Notes tilted their head, another nervous mannerism. “Would you like to have sex and then cook rotten spoo for me?”

“You only want me for my cooking?” G’Kar teased.m

“Yes,” Eater of Notes said, to the point. “And I heard that some aliens flirt near bathrooms. It is true?”

G’Kar stood up and rolled his shoulders forward, a sign of friendliness for pak’ma’ra. “Not in this instance, but I was looking for someone to spend the night with, and we can make dinner later. Would you prefer my quarters or yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c
> 
> G'Kar's song is It Feels Like Christmas from the Muppet Christmas Carol. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlRpGj7LWS4 
> 
> Londo evidently really likes Mamma Mia.
> 
> A Gentleman's Duel is based on a web short of the same name, which Avelera and I have decided is ridiculous and sexist enough to be a Centauri opera, with the butler played by a Narn. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXET1kvEOAY


	6. Keeping Busy

Between G’Kar’s rapid exit, Marcus’s suspicious looks, and Lennier’s stony silence, Londo decided that he would leave once he was done talking to Vir about the communique from his parents, and so he did.

There was plenty to do now that he was back. He had to arrange peace talks with all the worlds the Centauri had attacked, talks that had begun after Refa’s death and had been put on hold for the business of Cartagia. He briefed Sheridan and Delenn on the Shadow influence on Centauri Prime as much as his government allowed. There were passports to be assigned, Babylon 5 Centauri politics to monitor, and spies to keep in touch with.

And, above all else, he had bottles to empty. The war was over, the blood had stopped cascading through his fingers, and he was not the criminal he had once been. Li only allowed the inner self to those who were truly penitent. Londo had an inner self he could want to be again.

When he went back to his quarters, Londo poured himself a glass of brivari and wrote until he heard the intercom bing with Vir saying he was home safely, going to sleep now, please don’t wake me up with loud music again. The station clock said it was late, too late, and Londo’s glass had only dropped a few inches of many.

Which was fine. It was fine. Londo was not afraid to see his inner self again. Not like he was during the war. There was nothing to fear; he was not a monster; now that he was by himself, he could look at himself safely.

And if the glass stayed half-full through the night and into the morning, when Londo grabbed a data crystal full of Centauri opera to wake Vir up with, that was just because he was savoring the taste.


	7. Worried

The Narns in Security  brightened on the Tuesday G’Kar returned to work. They beamed at the crowds from their stations and talked among themselves out of earshot of the Centauri.

Londo waited to see G’Kar walk among them. If he didn’t know every Narn on-station, he at least seemed to, and he often talked to his subordinates in security when times were slow. Or at least he had before Centauri Prime. Two days, five, a week, and G’Kar never appeared.

Spies on Babylon 5 weren’t as thorough as the ones on Centauri Prime, but they gave Londo approximates of where G’Kar went: to the main office for Babylon 5 security, to the room the Narns were renting for their station-wide Kha’Ri, to his quarters. The few times he had been seen visiting Narns at their personal quarters, they only took a few minutes - short enough that the spies did not have to wait tohim come and go. He never stayed long.

“Something is not right, Vir,” Londo said. He put down the report about G’Kar’s activities for the last two weeks and turned to Vir, who rewriting the terms for the ceasefire with the Drazi so that the Drazi wouldn’t flip a table at the terse wording like he did last time.

“Of course! A war just ended,” Vir said, not looking up.

“Not about the war. About G’Kar.” Londo leaned forward as Vir looked up. “Have you noticed?”

“Noticed what? He’s not out as much? He always does that when he’s busy. He did that during the war and the occupation.”

“That’s not it. G’Kar has not always been a gregarious person, but he has always taken care of his people. You remember how he’d always come into council from the Narn living quarters or how we’d hear about him coming back from visiting some new parent in the middle of the night?” Londo asked.

Vir nodded.

“How many times in the last few nights have we run into him coming back late at night? Has he been at the Zocalo drinking with the other Narns? What about when he’d cook and carry food through the halls for festivals the other Narns threw and the lift would smell like meat for a week?”

“Just because no one’s had a festival in the last two weeks doesn’t mean he’s acting strangely,” Vir said.

“Ha! So you have noticed.” Londo grinned. “He goes to work, he visits council, he goes home. He’s always done things with the other Narns! They had to drag him away from the Narns when they were going to execute him! Why wouldn’t he be visiting now?”

Vir grimaced. “It’s not necessarily something wrong. He could just be tired.”

“He told me losing an eye was nothing compared to serving Narn. This is definitely wrong!” Londo said.

“Even if it is,” Vir said, “what are we supposed to do about it? March in and tell him he’s not being social enough? We’re the ones who caused it in the first place!”

Londo was quiet for a long moment. He did not know if he could say: it is because I caused this that I worry.  He did not want to leave another indelible mark on G’Kar’s soul besides the deep grooves that they had worn into each other from time and touch alone.

At last: “There may not be much we can do, but if it turns out he’s been possessed by some space worm, we’ll at least have advance warning,” he said, trying to be funny.

Vir forced a smile.


	8. Day to Day Duties

The eye on its own stayed room temperature. The electronics inside it were small and efficient enough that it would never burn whatever skin it was nested inside when it was working. It was up to G’Kar whether he’d hold it in his hand until it was was as warm as he was or if he’d stick it in and savor the unnatural cool of the metal for a few minutes.

This morning, G’Kar turned the eye on when he woke up and left it on the table next to his bed. He dressed with his one eye closed, watching himself from the eye on the table. Watching with both eyes open was still disorienting, but keeping his good eye closed while the prosthetic viewed exhilarated.

He’d always wondered what his actions looked like from the outside. The last time he’d watched himself dress, G’Sten had been teaching him how to put on armor. “You have to do it in the right order, Kar, or it will fall off or bruise.” G’Sten had been so tall then, and he’d helped Kar with the straps and buckles of the child-sized armor. “You will live in this armor, so you must know how to put it on and take it off at a moment’s notice.”

G’Kar did. He didn’t have to think to drop his robe and pull on his clingy under-armor, top and bottom, though he was careful as he pulled the shirt over his back. The scars that traced over his back like barbed wire and brambles mostly itched, but he didn’t want to take chances and irritate them.

Then his leg armor. This was worn under his pants and over the underarmor and had protective armor at the joints and over his crotch. Most attackers didn’t go for the legs, so emphasis was placed on mobility and preventing injuries from a fall. Over that went his pants, made from a soft fabric that was easy to move in.

Next was his first layer of his armor, a thick-fabricked shirt. This had a fine metal layer sandwiched between layers of cloth; this would disperse enough energy from a PPG blast to make a hit less likely to be immediately fatal. It also would protect against attacks with blunt instruments and the chill of the human quarters of Babylon 5. It was too cold to think about dressing casually there, even if he wanted to. The metal studs on his arms stopped at the shoulders and became simple black padding on his chest and back, buckling closed at two points under his collarbone and on his waist, then tied to his pants so that it wouldn’t flap around.

Then he put on his boots; putting them on with his full armor would be tricky since it was so thick around the torso.

His last layer of armor came next, which he shrugged on like a vest and strapped and buckled on over the padding. This was a lighter set than what he’d worn as ambassador - easier to move and fight in but with less protection - but that was fine. “Pick what you wear for your battles,” G’Sten had said, and G’Kar wanted to be able to fight if there was trouble while he helped security. Then, over that armor, a light vestcoat made from scraps of leather sewn together for a touch of flair that battle-scars lacked.

Finally were his gloves and gauntlets, which would slow down a knife if he had to block it. They fit comfortably and were flexible enough that he could write with them on.

G’Kar smoothed the fabric of his top layer of armor out, then spun around for his eye. The fabric spun after him, accentuating his movement. His coat of armor highlighted the flare of his hips and his stocky shoulders while being bulky enough to not reveal, and just enough of his neck was bare in the gap left by the flared collar to give people something to think about.

“It’s a dangerous style,” G’Sten had said. He had accompanied G’Kar to the tailor’s so they could talk before G’Kar left for his first off-world assignment for the Kha’Ri. The tailor had been sent away so that the two of them could talk in private. “Are you sure of this?”

“Of course,” G’Kar had replied. “If I’m introduced as the flighty, promiscuous part of the ambassadorial party, no one will bat an eye when I meet my contacts among the humans because they’ll think it’s for a date. And if I do manage to get lucky with an alien politician, I might learn something important!”

“Or if not, you’ll simply sleep with an alien,” G’Sten said, chuckling.

“Exactly!” G’Kar said. He adjusted the buckle under his collar so that it didn’t dig in against his under-armor. “I don’t think it will hurt. Information gathering is just as important as fighting in this age, and if we’re going to crush the Centauri, we’ll need every scrap of an advantage that we can get.” He turned to G’Sten. “It worked! By trading with others during the Dilgar War, we’ve become incredibly influential in a short time! If we can keep this up - “

“You don’t have to convince me of anything,” G’Sten chided gently. “I believe in you. Save your fervor for when you talk to your superiors in the fifth circle, where you’ll need it.”

“I know,” G’Kar said, deflating. “Some of them don’t like how friendly I’ve gotten with some of my contacts, but at least they can’t deny my effectiveness.”

“They can’t,” G’Sten had agreed, clapping his hand on G’Kar’s shoulder.

G’Kar patted his own shoulder, remembering how that touch had felt. G’Sten had died almost a year and a half ago, in the same hour as Narn’s capture and the deaths of a dozen other relatives, and every time he thought his grief had faded to the same background noise that all the other deaths in his life had become, he’d find something that would make it spike back, an emotional nail through the webbing of his hand. An errant bottle of dried herbs that smelled like G’Sten’s kitchen or the curled white edge on the book about Earther customs that a nephew (still missing) had teethed on or the mug G’Shon had lent him before he left for Babylon 5, a remnant of their partnership in the fourth circle before it had been scattered by the occupation-

\- or, here, warm, huge hands on his own, showing him how to buckle his armor or reassuring him with a pat on the shoulder.

It wasn’t fair how fast and hot tears came to his eye, how his face clenched. The eye on the table caught everything. He turned away so all it caught was the broad of his back and tried to force his face back into calmness.

He missed G’Sten. He missed everyone. He still didn’t know how many of his family and friends were dead. But the war was over and he could do nothing to bring them back, had done everything he could to find them, so he wanted to move on. He wanted at least one day without the cold lump in his chest that knew huge chunks of his life that had been wiped away as quickly and thoroughly as figures from a chalkboard.

It took two minutes, maybe three, for G’Kar to settle himself. It felt longer. He wiped his eye and took deep breaths.

There was nothing he could do to improve this situation. Crying about it would do nothing. Actions would help those who remained better than this. His duty was to guide the Narns on this station and to wring every last drop of aid from every last alien government.

G’Kar pulled off his glove, reached over and grabbed his eye. He turned it off and held it in his hand until it was as warm as his skin. Sometimes, the chill of metal in his eye was energizing, a warning not to let down his guard and a reminder that he had to be careful, no-longer-Narn. But that particular wound had already been picked open; he’d spend the rest of the day walking on eggshells.

The motions for putting his eye in weren’t as ingrained as the ones for putting his armor on. It took a little wiggling for it to anchor in his eye socket properly, and his sight evened out.

Breakfast helped. There hadn’t been any food imports from Narn for a year and a half and there wouldn't be more for at least another six months, so he made do with what he could scavenge on Babylon 5. He chopped up leftovers from last night’s security potluck and let the repetitive motion soothe; it went into the station’s standard protein gruel with a little hot sauce, which greatly improved the flavor.

It wasn’t great food, but it filled. G’Kar ate mechanically, rose, checked the time. He had enough to get to all of the morning’s duties.

He washed the dishes, placed them back in their cabinets, and locked the door behind him when he left his quarters. He checked in on G’Nar and S’Pari and their newborn, who was curled asleep in S’Pari’s pouch.

“Perhaps you could give them a blessing,” S’Pari said, his smile as warm as the sun, and G’Kar smiled back and politely excused himself for work.

T’Ni was recovering from the knife wound nicely. “I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened if you were there during the fight; you’re so good at dealing with trouble from the humans,” she said. “I never should have doubted you as the leader of our Babylon Kha’Ri,” and G’Kar said that it was natural to doubt leaders and oh, look at the time, he had to head to work.

G’Dan was waiting for G’Kar outside. She handed him a spoo bun and gestured for him to follow her. “Any news from homeworld?” he asked.

“They’re going to put Dad to rest tomorrow. G’On may have lost an eye and a nose but his brain’s still on straight, so he’s managing finances with G’Red there while I channel money from my enterprises here,” she said. “No one has any idea where G’Nas is still, but they’ve identified the camp that he and G’Ra got sent to so there’s that. I’ve gotten six calls offering me bribes for information from you. Are you sure - ?”

“Very sure,” he said, and snapped his teeth into the bun.

“We could make a killing off them, literally.” She waved her bun at him as she got into the elevator. “I can’t believe you’d give up a willing army.”

“There’s more to life than power,” G’Kar said. “I thought the same as you at your age, but power eats you from the inside out. Nothing is left but shells. I’m happy living like this, even if you are not.”

G’Dan sighed. “We are not going to turn into the Centauri if we work for power.”

“Speak for yourself,” G’Kar said. “I’m not the one who wants to turn our parliamentary system into a republic so that we can shove an emperor in somewhere.”

“The royal family of Narn has always had a place! They have served well in the fifth circle as spokespeople for the Kha’Ri and as the face of the Narn Regime to outsiders who don’t respect our parlimentary government! Why can’t they take on more responsibility like the royals have on other planets?!” G’Dan’s arms waved all over. “Kh’Na has been negotiating aid from the Minbari since the war began, and Kh’Fa has gotten us allies among the human telepaths! This shows they’re just as skilled as those they serve!”

“Leaving responsibility in the hands of one or two people means that one person’s failure can doom everyone! Having multiple people creates a system where the failure of one can be negated by the success of others!”

“You did fine on your own,” G’Dan pointed out.

“A fluke,” G’Kar said. “That’s not something I want to replicate now that we’re at peace.”

“Coward,” G’Dan said.

“Stubborn,” G’Kar countered.

The elevator door opened. “Here’s my stop,” G’Dan said. “See you at lunch?”

“If I’m not busy,” G’Kar said.

“You’re always busy,” G’Dan huffed. She waved him goodbye and he waved back before the elevator doors shut.

G’Kar sank against the back wall of the elevator and sighed. His jaws were sore from how they had been clenched. The sooner he got to the security office, the better. The humans left him alone most of the time.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone all the time. He loved his people. He loved his niece. He just wanted to talk to someone who didn’t sink their fingers into the open wounds of his past every time.

His pager beeped. “Meet me in the Ranger’s office,” read a message from Delenn, and G’Kar sighed and pressed the button to go down to the war rooms.

G’Kar stood up straight when the elevator dinged for people to enter. He couldn’t be seen like that. A few humans came in and out, ignored him, and G’Kar ignored them in return. Some Minbari came in; when they scurried out like so many lemmings, he followed them to the small Ranger command post that had been set up near the war room and looked for Delenn, who waved him over to her seat near a computer projection of the Minbari homeworld. She waved it away.

“Thank you for coming,” Delenn said. She bowed to him with her hands in a triangle and he bowed back with his hands on his chest. “I know this is short notice, and you’ve been busy.”

“Not so busy that I can’t see you,” G’Kar said. “What do you need? I’ve worked out the paperwork for the telepaths’ bodyguards to go back to Narn and to give your ships permission to come in with supplies.”

Delenn’s eyes flicked away. Not a good sign; lack of eye contact from such a highly ranked Minbari meant she wasn’t happy about what she was going to say.

“We may need the guards for a while longer,” she said. “And we will not be able to send aid as soon as I said we would.”

Something cold and hard dropped into his stomach. “What happened?”

“There is some unrest on the Minbari homeworld,” she said.

Unrest on the Minbari homeworld. Given that he’d called here on such short notice, it couldn’t be just that. The Minbari had promised to help rebuild after they had abandoned the Narn to the Shadows for the sake of the universe; Delenn had promised assistance from the Rangers and one of the survivors of the royal family had been in negotiations for more from the Minbari government for weeks.  They couldn’t just call it off! G’Kar clenched his hands.

Unrest. Ha! The Minbari were too proud to say a war. G’Kar could only guess because his contacts had been spread thin by the war, with most nested in spaces that would help the Narn; still, the evidence added up. Delenn was rushing, and the Minbari around her looked nervous.

“Of course,” he said. What could he do but accept? It wasn’t as if getting upset would change her mind. The Minbari had every right to try and fix their world before going and helping other worlds.

Narn had waited so long for help already, waited alone and fought alone and been defeated alone. What was a few more weeks after almost dying for the sake of everyone else? The sacrifice of some would save all.

“I'm sorry,” Delenn said.

The worst part was that she was. She truly was. She was sorry she couldn't help the Narns, but Minbar came first. She was sorry she left them to the Shadows, but the universe came first. She was sorry she never picked sides in trade disagreements with the Centauri, but Minbari neutrality came first. It was for the good of everyone that no one helped the Narns, because there was always something else that was more important. Every single time.

G'Kar knew he should feel angry, but she was his friend and the embers of his rage were dampened by pity. People who could be so warm and full one moment and then be emptied of all goodness the next were as pitiable as those who were empty all the time.

Delenn was his friend, half-full and half-empty, and though she was so empty toward his people, she had been full of kindness to him many times. Even if he had the energy to lash out, he would not. He didn't want to lose her like he'd lost so much else.

“I know,” G'Kar said, and he forced a smile. “Your own people come first.”

“I am glad you understand,” said Delenn. She put her hand on his. Even now, he marveled at how thin and soft they were, how she had grown to such high stations without her hands becoming worn and thick with work. “I will be leaving soon; that is why I called you here on such short notice. I hope things will resolve themselves soon.”

“As do I. Good luck, Delenn,” G'Kar said. He pulled his hand away and stood. “I have my responsibilities to attend to, so I can't stay.”

“Of course,” Delenn said.

G'Kar left quickly, not looking at the other Minbari. He needed to do his duties in Security and not think about these things. He couldn't do anything about this now. He wasn't going to waste his energy on this. 


	9. Bad Idea

Sheridan called G’Kar to meet him about White Stars patrolling the borders. G’Kar found Mollari waiting for him in Sheridan’s office.

G’Kar could say nothing. He felt like a bottle of liquid undergoing chemical reaction, his glass sides barely keeping steady. “This is a bad idea,” he said, and could say no more with Mollari so close.

And Mollari said, “G’Kar is right.” G’Kar listened in disbelief, awful nothingness growing large in his chest, as Mollari talked on and on, and made good points, and Sheridan listened to him. G’Kar turned away as Mollari talked. He didn’t know how he could stand Mollari in the same room, with tension darting through him tip to toes.

As soon as G’Kar could, he left.

Footsteps followed him. G’Kar didn’t turn; he knew who it was.

“Go away, Mollari.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this? We’re both the representatives of our governments.”

“You just said it was a bad idea,” G’Kar said. “We don’t need to talk.”

“Yes, we do!” Mollari said. “Sheridan will no doubt bring it back up! We need to have a formal response from our governments.”

“I will have to talk to my government, and you to yours,” G’Kar said, “but the two of them are not allies, and neither are we.”

“But - ”

“I told you that you no longer exist in my life. Go away,” G’Kar said, sweeping away before Mollari could say another word. 


	10. Worse Idea

“It’s nice to see you’re back on the station,” Londo said.

“I’ve been busy,” Ivanova said.

“Yes, the Earth’s new political disaster. I cannot blame you for being busy. The entire ship is walking on eggs to see what will happen.” Londo took a drink. The Zocalo was busy as usual, and he hoped that coming here would be a good change from drinking alone in his quarters.

Ivanova took a long drink and looked at him very carefully. “I don’t think you can comment on it, given the state of your politics.”

Londo waved it off. “We’re working on it. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to swear peace to a dozen worlds. If we did it for the Pax Centaurum, we can do it again.”

“How convenient for you,” Ivanova said.

Londo didn’t respond for a moment. Coldness from people he had considered friends and acquaintances was nothing new, but he had been hoping that some of it would have melted with the end of the war. He had fixed things, hadn’t he?

“The war is done with,” Londo said, “so we can talk about happier things, can’t we? Like,” he said, grasping for topics, “Mr. Garibaldi! He’s busy with his new job, isn’t it?”

“You mean, the one he left Babylon 5 for?”

Her words were like ice. Londo swallowed and tried again. “Or that handsome young man who’s been working with you lately. Marcus, correct? Vir is fond of him.”

Londo got a look that could have seared the eyebrows off a lesser man and quickly fumbled for a new topic. “That young lady telepath you were friends with a few years ago! Where is she? I haven’t seen her on station for a while.”

Ivanova very carefully did not throw her vodka at him.

Londo sighed. “Look, this is clearly not a good day for me.” Ivanova glared at him, and Londo hastily added: “And other people, of course! But in case you haven’t been paying attention, I gave the Narns their homeworld back. I’ve ordered our war machine dismantled, our ships sent back home. I’ve taken the most harmless man on Centauri Prime and put him on the throne as regent! I’m fixing what I did wrong! I can’t ask for your forgiveness, but we can at least be civil, yes? Or am I not worthy of second chances?” Ivanova stared down at her reflection in the glass. He sighed and stood up. “I should go. I’m only making things worse.”

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned back. “Yes?”

“I need someone to drink with who can keep up with me,” Ivanova said. "On one condition.”

"Of course," Londo said, caught with his mind in the middle of a speech to convince her to let him sit with her. He hadn’t expected simple honesty to work.

"We're here to drink, not to talk. Capiche?"

She raised her glass. Londo clinked his glass against hers. “Understood.”

They drank.

* * *

 

Hours later, they were the only two in the bar, which meant that Londo could belt out opera to his heart’s content and no one could complain. Or maybe everyone had left when he started singing. Londo was too busy singing to care.

“ - and though the petals of our flowers will fall to the ground as ash, they will become food for the fruit that comes at laaast!” Londo sang, then bowed. “And that is Scotari Lancia’s masterpiece aria, _Fruit of Our Flowers_ , from the opera _Telis and Corusca_!”

Ivanova applauded.

“Your turn,” Londo said, and sat down. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Ivanova said.

“Are the captain and Delenn married yet? I’ve heard rumors, but we’re all so busy that I’ve barely seen her!”

“They’re just dating,” Ivanova said. “I saw them kissing when Sheridan returned from Zha’Ha’Dum. He told me they’re doing rituals for becoming engaged.”

“I heard he died there,” Londo said, nudging across an unspoken question.

“No asking for classified information, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Londo took a penalty shot and relished how the cheap norak burned on the way down; Londo had bought a bottle for him and Ivanova to share since it was cheaper than vodka. It didn’t taste as good as brivari, but all of Centauri Prime’s drinks were delicious. He could go on drinking for hours more without stopping, so he could afford a penalty or two catching up on the news.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Alright. If you had to sleep with anyone on the station, who would you pick?”

Londo considered this.

There had been no one after Adira. She’d filled a hole in his heart he’d thought could never be healed, and her death had ripped the stitching out and exposed his heart to air. He hadn’t tried to fill that hole again; who could measure up to her? Granted, there were plenty of good looking people on Babylon 5. Most of the humans looked like men with all that hair, and the Minbari all look feminine with their baldness, which was a little confusing at times.  G’Kar had leapt the barrier to alien omnisexuality easier than Londo had, which is why Londo usually stuck to the Centauri for his affairs while G’Kar seemed to invite every species into his bed. No doubt he had one there now, or maybe two, and G’Kar had taken that armor off to reveal the gleaming muscles underneath, how his strong, thick neck ran down to the fine muscles of his back -

\- which oozed blood over the burns, and G’Kar trembled as Londo dumped a glass of brivari on his wounds and his skin was cold and clammy and -

\- Londo took a drink. The norak tasted bitter. “I can’t answer that.”

“That’s fine,” Ivanova said. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Londo tried to usher his words together. “You’ve been wronged terribly before. It seems like everyone on this station has been, hasn’t it? What would you do if the person who did it wanted to reconcile with you? I dare you to tell me what you’d do.”

Ivanova gave him a look. “Londo,” she said, “that’s a truth.”

“That was a dare! I dared you to tell me a truth,” Londo retorted. It seemed fair enough to him.

Ivanova sighed. “Fine, but you owe me an unfair question in return.”

“Deal,” Londo said.

“It would depend on what you were offering to gain my reconciliation,” Ivanova said. “Are you really sorry about it? Or do you just want me back?”

Londo bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can ask for forgiveness or pleasantries. There has never been friendship between me and G - and the other person involved, hypothetically. I would be happy going back to antagonism as long as I could simply be acknowledged again. I want him to talk to me. I don’t care if we are fighting or not. I just want him back in my life.”

“It’s G’Kar, isn’t it,” Ivanova said.

“Is this your unfair question?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, and damn you.” Londo poured himself more of the pitcher of norak. “I can’t stop thinking about him. He won’t talk to me! It’s like I’m not even there!”

“Londo, you were the face of a war that almost destroyed his planet - ”

“Which I freed!”

“ - and killed the man who raised him and a great deal of his extended family - ”

“I didn’t do that!”

“ - and he ended up losing an eye and being tortured! I know you didn’t start the war, Londo,” and Londo swallowed nervously, “but the part you played in it as the ambassador was still significant. If I were him, not talking to you is the nicest possible thing I could do to you.” Ivanova waved her glass at him. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. If I were him, I’d have strangled you the first chance I got.”

Londo groaned. “Believe me, he’s tried.”

“I believe it. How many times have you two tried to kill each other?” Ivanova asked.

“Will this be used against me in court?”

“Strictly off the record,” Ivanova said. “I never heard anything.”

“Then I have another question for you. Do you mean times we’ve tried to kill each other at the same time or separate assassination attempts?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Ivanova said. “Both. All of them. Every murder attempt!”

“Let’s see. Do ones you got talked out of before you did them count? Or what about ones where you’re not sure they helped or if they were simply having sex with the perpetrator? You know, maybe I can average those out - nine times. We have tried to kill each other nine times.”

“That’s impressive. Babylon 5’s only been here for what, four years?”

“Oh, no, it’s been going for far longer than that. We met during the Dilgar War,” Londo said. “We were also part of the diplomatic delegations from our planets to Earth. We have had a long time to develop this rivalry, though it did not become so serious until we came to Babylon 5. Half of those incidents were here.”

“Great,” Ivanova said. “I hope this talk doesn’t inspire you to spark number ten.”

“I doubt that will happen. He says he wants nothing to do with me, not that he wants me dead. I have not seen him like this since - I have never seen him like this. He has always been willing to fight until now.” Londo sighed. “He has never been quiet. Perhaps I am mad, but I would prefer his anger to this.”

“Why do you want him back?” Ivanova asked.

Londo pondered this and took a drink. He didn’t have a penalty; he simply needed the norak to grease the wheels of his mind.

“I did unfair things during the war,” he finally said. “I’m trying to even out the scales. But if G’Kar never talks to me, then I cannot even things out with him. We have unfinished business, he and I. My life will never be balanced if I cannot fix things with him. We are counterweights to each other. If I cannot fix things with him, then I will never feel at ease, both because he is gone and because I was unable to ask him to stay.”

Ivanova poured herself a shot and drank it. “You should go see him,” she said. “Tomorrow, when you’re sober. Ask him to let you back. If he does, good. If not, then let it rest. Sometimes you can’t fix things, and pushing will only make it worse. Don’t go chasing after someone who doesn’t want you.”

“If he doesn’t want me back in his life, then what do I do? Do I remain unbalanced forever?”

“It happens,” Ivanova said. “Sometimes you don’t get the person you want in your life back.” A shadow fell over her face.

Londo looked away. He didn’t want to see such pain. “I think we should play a new game.”

“Let’s,” Ivanova said. “We’re not here to talk about the things we started drinking for.”


End file.
